I found a biscuit wrapper in my handbag and could not remember eating it

Dear Delyara, Evidence that I had fed myself in transit again. Evidence that the day had not contained a proper pause large enough for a proper meal. Evidence that I am still doing these small, efficient acts of self-neglect and calling them adaptation because saying “I’m not caring for myself well enough” feels too large and accusing by comparison. The wrapper was crumpled around the edges. I threw it away and felt quietly accused by my own afternoon.